


Like Real People Do

by baseballbullshit (beabaseball), rattlemeoldbones



Series: Terrible Interconnected RP shenanigans (Batman) [1]
Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Justice League (2017)
Genre: AU Crossover, Alien Biology, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bruce Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Other, Past Character Death, Roleplay Logs, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 02:29:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15354231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beabaseball/pseuds/baseballbullshit, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rattlemeoldbones/pseuds/rattlemeoldbones
Summary: Unexpectedly shunted into another dimension a year after the creation of the Justice League, Superman finds himself staring down a strange situation with a struggling Batman and Robin, and finds himself realizing that the man who was once his murderer is now someone he can't bear to watch suffer.RP format





	1. the plot part

**Author's Note:**

  * For [THE WAY DICK GRAYSON MUMBLES 'fuck batman' IN THE TITANS TRAILER](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=THE+WAY+DICK+GRAYSON+MUMBLES+%27fuck+batman%27+IN+THE+TITANS+TRAILER).



> we literally just whipped up this AU in liek two days please don't get too hard on details lol  
> crossover with Roadtrip Vigilantes, but no knowledge needed to follow it

...time seemed to pass faster when things were good. The Justice League was small and staggering--but they were alright together. They were cohesive enough.

They were a first-response organization before anything else--whether that first-response was trying to clear people from a flood, or trying to help confine criminals too dangerous for the police alone.

But Tim’s prediction was coming true.

There were more metas than seemingly ever before.

There were more aliens coming to earth, one after another--some in hiding. Some peaceful.

Some willing to level cities.

It was hard to know what to expect when you woke up each morning, sometimes. What to expect when Batman and Cyborg set off the com alarms and gave out news of energy spikes, or unusual phenomena, or someone using their arms as flame throwers in the downtown.

Batman, for his part, hadn't actually gotten all that friendlier about metas and aliens, and if he found them in Gotham, the first thing he did was try to get them the hell out of it.

But he tried to maintain their rights better than what the law strictly wanted, and that included the right to showing the fuck up when things went wrong.

“Superman,” he said over  he com, using the name gruffly, if only to let him know it wasn't time for banter. “There’s something throwing off massive power spikes in the upstate New York. Are you anywhere close to check it out?"

\--

**“Close enough.” Came Superman’s voice right back, straight and to-the-point… for now anyway.**

**“Any idea what it might be?” He asked, already changing his course to head to New York.**

**\--**

“...it reads the same as the Motherbox energy. We cross referenced it with Cyborg’s biometrics. ...you're probably the only one who can get close safely. In the meantime, we’re trying to get the areas around it evacuated in case it changes.”

“...be careful,” Bruce added over the com, softer.

\--

**Clark smiled, and it was clear on his voice. “I will. Just keep me posted if anything changes.”**

**…**

**He was in New York only a moment later.**

**\--**

“Will do.”

By the time he hit the border, Bruce had sent more accurate coordinates to his GPS.

Not that he needed it.

From this height, with his vision?

Clark would be able to see the telltale cyan glow from miles away.

\--

**He did slow down a little as he got closer.**

**“I have visuals.” Clark said, and started to get closer and closer to what the strange thing was.**

**\--**

“What's it look like?” Bruce asked, the loud clatter of his fingers already on the keyboard, already trying to figure things out from his distance.

The blue light was pulsing up in waves, growing wider at a distance and seeming to come from one, small area far closer to the ground before shooting up into the air.

“Clark--?” Bruce asked again after a moment. “C-ark-- sta--ic’s--”

“--you -ear-?”

\--

**“Blue,” he said first. “Pul-ing. Looks ---- wave-.”**

**…**

**“Bru--? We’re --eaking --.”**

**…**

**It was the last thing Bruce would hear.**

**\--**

As Clark drew closer, the rings of light only grew larger and larger.

And the the larger they grew, the gravity exponentially increased.

Clark would feel a tug on his leg first, perhaps, if he'd stopped to hover, or on his arms if he kept flying right towards it-- 

But then, before he could pull away, if he even could at all--

He would be surrounded by light. 

And he would be gone.

…. 

He'd wake up in a hospital bed, with a concerned blue-eyed man staring down at him.

\--

**He shielded his eyes first, and when he felt the first pull he had tried to fly away--**

**…**

**And then he woke up.**

**His eyes shot open and he sucked in a breath, eyes first looking at the ceiling before snapping over at the face of someone yet to come into focus.**

**\--**

“Hey!” the man said, holding out his arms. “Hey, it's okay… deep breaths.”

The voice wasn't threatening--he even seemed a little startled at Clark’s sudden awakening, and after that pretty off-guard attempt at soothing bedside manner, he backed up a bit to give Clark some breathing room, still keeping well in his line of sight.

It was a relatively tall young adult with unreal blue eyes, a wide jaw and a loose curl in his dark hair.

He wore a uniform of red and blue.

And a familiar ‘S’ sigil on his chest.

\--

**Everything felt like it was in a fog.**

**Clark sat up and looked at the man, then at the other wall, then back at the man. Up and down.**

**The hair. The eyes. The suit.**

**…**

**Clark rolled out of bed away from him and grabbed the whole frame, lifting it up over his head and ready to slam it down into the… other Superman.**

**\--**

Superman put his hands up to catch it. “Diana!!”

Wonder Woman burst into the room, lasso golden, and lashed it out to wrap its unbreakable rope around Clark’s arms and pin them together.

\--

**Clark’s arms snapped to his sides.**

**He grabbed the rope and braced his feet to try and keep himself from being yanked off balance if she tried.**

**Diana though… she looked the same. She didn’t age. She wasn’t** **_him_ ** **.**

**But… this felt wrong.**

**“Who are you?!” He demanded, trying to sound confident even if he didn’t feel it at all.**

**\--**

She didn't try.

She just held him, stopping him from ripping up furniture, and let him hold the rope.

“I am Diana of Themyscira,” she said, and it rang True through the golden lasso in her hands-- in Clark’s. “And this is Kal El of Krypton. We mean you no harm. Who are _you?”_

\--

**“That--” He stumbled and swallowed.**

**“... I’m Kal-El of Krypton.” He answered, bright blue eyes fixing on the other Superman.**

**\--**

The two glanced at each other.

Superman didn't attack, and Diana didn't act as if she suspected an imposter in him.

They were certain of their own identities.

And they looked back at Clark as a pair, not loosening the lasso, but also not anymore aggressive than a moment before in their own self defense.

“You fell from the sky,” Diana said, voice stern, but not unkind. It still rang True, or else she couldn't have said it so easily. “After an energy anomaly. We found you lying in a cater in the Gulf of Mexico and brought you here. How did this come to pass?"

\--

 **He hesitated, but only for a moment. The lasso was still tight around him, and he didn’t really have any option but to tell the truth anyway.**

**“I was looking into a power surge in upstate New York. It pulled me in.”**

**“... Then I woke up here.”**

**\--**

…

Superman moved to also touch the lasso.

“Do you have any mal intent now that you're here?”

\--

 **“I--” He shook his head, as if confused. “No. I don’t even know where** **_here_ ** **is.”**

**\--**

…

The two glanced at each other once more, but that response seemed to be good enough for them.

“If we let ya loose, gonna be throwing anymore furniture? Or fists? Or… powers?”

Had to cover the bases, sometimes.

\--

**“Not without good reason.” Clark said, and eased up slightly on gripping the rope.**

**\--**

“Well, we’re not here to hurt you without good cause, either,” Superman said, smiling a little, and a fair bit more relaxed now.

He let go of the rope, and after a sigh, Diana flicked the lasso off Clark and pulled it back to his hands.

“Please put the bed back where it was and sit down. You’ve been unconscious for a long while and shouldn't be lifting things just yet anyway,” she said, and definitely gave the younger Superman a look that said he needed to learn the same lesson sometimes.

But Superman was a _lot_ more preoccupied with something else. “You're a kryptonian too, for real, then, right?”

Never mind being _identical,_ but… _kryptonian_.

\--

**Clark stood up straight and sighed, then… put the bed back and sat down.**

**“... Yes.” He said, brow raised at his younger self. Younger than he had been when first putting on the suit.**

**His attention turned back to Diana and he rubbed his head. “How long have I been out?”**

**\--**

“About eight hours,” Diana said, crossing her arms and leaning on her hip, looking more concerned than anything now that the threat seemed to have passed. “We checked for psychic damage, but there was nothing surface-level that we could find. And so we thought it best to see if you would wake up on your own.”

\--

**Clark nodded, then looked around. “So… where am I, exactly?”**

**\--**

It looked, somewhat, like a hospital room: blank, empty, with only the bed, a few chairs, and a beside tray table.

“The Watchtower,” Superman said, as if that was something Clark should know about.

\--

**Clark looked no more informed. “The Watchtower?”**

**\--**

…

This was definitely not something the two had expected, considering the surprise on their faces at Clark’s reaction.

“...tell me, if you would,” Diana said, “Do you know of a Justice League?”

“The Watchtower’s our satellite,” Superman added.

\--

**“Well yeah, that’s what Bats started up. Me, Diana, Barry, Victor, Arthur and Bruce.” He said, raising a finger on his hand for each person listed.**

**\--**

“Bruce?” Superman said softly, recognizing all the other names. “And what do you do?”

\--

**Clark barely registered the other Superman’s question, instantly hung up on the fact that he said Bruce like he… didn’t know him.**

**“Yeah. Bruce. Batman.”**

**\--**

It was Diana, Bruce’s first friend among the League, who did a double-take at that.

“ _Batman_?” she said.

She did not say it in a favorable way.

\--

**Clark was getting… increasingly worried. “Yeah. Batman. He’s the one that got all of us together.”**

**\--**

Diana looked at Superman.

Superman looked back, equally puzzled.

“...I'm sure our universe have… a handful of differences in them. You don't happen to know a Martian Manhunter, do you?”

\--

**“No I don’t.” Clark said, but was still… really hung up on the fact that Batman didn’t exist here.**

**Batman was the reason he was even** **_alive_ ** **right now.**

**“Is there a Bruce Wayne? In Gotham?”**

**Maybe he never became Batman. That would probably be good for him, honestly.**

**\--**

“Um…” he glanced at Diana, but was unsure. “I feel like I've heard the name before?”

He wasn't really sure how to handle this fixation on Batman.

“I can look it up if you really want me to?”

\--

**“I’d-- yeah I’d appreciate that.” Clark said.**

**Batman was his friend. A** **_good_ ** **friend. He couldn’t imagine Justice League without him.**

**He couldn’t imagine life without him.**

**Because he’d be dead.**

**\--**

Superman nodded and made a gesture that meant to hold on for a minute.

Diana sighed and stayed in the room.

“Is it alright if I can get Cyborg in to take some scans now that you're up? With any luck we’ll be able to get you back where you're meant to be.”

\--

**“Yeah, sure.” Clark said. “I- heh, I’d like to get home as soon as possible.”**

**Who knew what the power signature back home was doing.**

**\--**

Diana nodded sympathetically.

“I can imagine,” she said.

She headed out too, giving Clark a few moments with his thoughts, before inviting in a Victor whose circuitry was brighter blue, and parts of his arms were still flesh.

“Hey Big Blue numba Two,” he said, face much more relaxed and voice less strained than he Cyborg from back home. Less of that _anger_ that was still struggling to resolve itself in what life became for him. “Just hang out, I’ll barely even be touching ya.”

\--

**He looked a little surprised. “Hey… Victor.”**

**It sounded like a question almost.**

**…**

**“You seem chipper.”**

**\--**

He looked confused a moment. “...should I not?”

Kinda concerned, there.

\--

**“Uh.”**

**…**

**It took him a moment.**

**“You've got a lot to be angry about back home.” He settled with.**

**\--**

…

Victor looked over at Diana with some _pretty concerned eyes._

But she shook her head.

“Their world has some clear differences in it, already,” she said. And she'd said that word again: world.

A different world.

\--

 **_World_ ** **.**

  **God it had to be if it didn’t have Batman but it had someone named** **_Martian MANhunter_ ** **in the Justice League.**

  **He didn’t say much while Cyborg checked him over, just trying to piece together everything in his head.**

  **“... The crater in Mexico you found me in, is the energy signature still there? Or has it vanished?”**

  **Could he get back home the way he came?**

  **\--**

 Cyborg shook his head.

 “You didn't show up there. You showed up in atmo. We don't know exactly where. But we can probably find coordinates and use a zeta tube as a substitute.”

 One of his arms had popped open and was scanning Clark now.

 --

  **“A zeta tube?” Clark asked, not knowing what she was talking about.**

  **\--**

 “...y’know, like a boom tube?” Cyborg said. “...mother box?”

 --

  **He looked worried at mention of a ‘mother box’. “So you guys have figured them out…?”**

  **\--**

 “No? We got them down pretty good I think,” he said. “Atom’s a nuclear physicist. Between him, Green Lantern, and J’onn we made zeta tubes. _Like_ mother boxes and book tubes, but way more controllable.”

 He sounded totally comfortable with that.

 “How you think we made it worthwhile to be in space?”

 --

  **“... Oh.”**

  **…**

  **“Yeah, uh, I can’t say I’ve really heard of those names. It’s really just the five of us.”**

  **\--**

 “...oh,” Cyborg said, obviously really surprised.

 ...Diana was a little more sympathetic, not quite as taken off guard. “...how long has your League been assembled?”

 --

  **“A year, maybe. It was formed after we had a succession of different invasions, once Bruce realized we needed to band together to try and keep the planet safe.”**

  **Again, Bruce.**

  **It was all because of Bruce.**

  **\--**

 Cyborg didn't question the name this time.

 It was clearly wildly different.

 “Sounds rough,” he said instead, and said, “can I get some hair from ya? It holds radiation really well.”

 --

  **Clark reached up and grabbed a strand of hair to yank out. He handed it over.**

  **“At least it sounds like you guys have a lot more resources available. Maybe getting back home won’t take so long.”**

  **\--**

 Yeah, Cyborg wasn't gonna find out if he could damage Clark’s hair.

 “Haha. We’ll do what we can for ya, man. I'm gonna take this on out and see if Atom can come up and lend a hand. We’ll take care of ya.”

 He turned to head out, waving with a smile.

 ...easy. Friendly.

 Diana bade him a farewell.

 ...easy support.

 --

  **Clark watched him go. “Thank you.”**

  **…**

  **He looked at Diana and honestly didn’t know what to say.**

  **…**

  **“Things seem a lot more organized here. How long has** **_your_ ** **Justice League been active?”**

  **\--**

 She, admittedly, needed a moment to recall the year.

 “We’ve been public for nine,” she said, smiling, “but together for fourteen.”

 Without Batman.

 --

  **His eyes widened. “Wow.”**

  **…**

  **“Who put everything together?”**

  **\--**

 Diana looked over at him again, a little confused at that question.

 “...I suggested it,” she said, “but we all built it.”

 --

  **He looked a little surprised. Not… surprised that Diana would run things smoothly, not at all, she held the team together a lot of the time. But back where he came from Diana had been a lot more hesitant to ‘get back in the game’.**

**“... Huh. Was there something major that happened that made you start it?”**

**\--**

“The same as you,” she said. “An invasion. Kal El called for my assistance. And in time as the news progressed, all of us who felt we could help joined the fight.”

It had been an uprising.

A debutante.

 “It was necessary to organize after that, with the world’s eyes on us more than ever before. And so we did.”

 --

  **Fourteen years ago and yet this world’s Superman still looked younger than him.**

  **Jeeze.**

  **He couldn’t help but chuckle, “Feels like we really dragged our asses now.”**

  **\--**

 “It sounds as if there are fewer of you, there,” she said, shaking her head. “It's understandable.”

 --

  **“Or they just haven’t shown up yet.” Clark said. “There’s been a lot of metahumans coming out of the woodwork the past year. Way more than before. So we’re mostly trying to handle that and whatever happens to come our way.”**

  **\--**

 She nodded in understanding.

 “Perhaps one day you will meet the friends we have as well.” She smiled at the thought of it.

 --

  **“I can hope.” He said, accent slipping through even though he normally tried to hide it while dressed as Superman.**

  **…**

  **He wondered if… the** **_other_ ** **Superman managed to find out anything of this world’s Bruce.**

  **\--**

 It was about then, actually, that Superman returned.

 ...he didn't look… cheerful, really, about whatever he found.

 “Hey! Thanks for waiting. You, uh, the name was Bruce W-a-y-n-e, right?”

 --

  **Clark perked up. “Yeah. That's it.”**

  **\--**

 Superman nodded, glancing down at the paper. “Uh… it looks like he was an heir to an old rich family. ...he disappeared shortly after his eighteenth birthday.”

  _‘And resurfaced seven years later, the same year of the Batman debut,’_ was how that sentence was supposed to end.

 But it didn't.

 --

  ** _‘Was.’_ **

  **Clark felt a knot in his stomach.**

  **“... That's it?” He asked, nervousness creeping into his voice.**

  **\--**

 This was kinda why Superman had… taken a lot more time to come back than he'd actually needed to look it up and print the little sheet out.

 “...basically, unfortunately,” he said. “...there's some family history I found, but it's been a cold case for over twenty years now… he disappeared in the mid 90s.”

 But Superman came closer to the bed, sitting beside Clark and reaching out a hand to put on his shoulder, hoping it was comforting.

 “I know that's probably really scary to hear about your friend,” he said. “But maybe that's not who Batman is here, you know?”

 “...I'm not sure if that's _better_ , but it's certainly a possibility,” Diana said.

 --

  **Clark’s eyes were going back and forth between them now and he was only looking more concerned.**

  **“... So you do have a Batman here?”**

  **\--**

 “We have someone who has been _called_ ‘Batman,’ Diana said gently. “Though he isn't someone I would invite to the League.”

 Superman tried to focus on comfort more than… the feelings on the subject that Diana had been Pretty Open About ever since the press started having their field day over it.

 “Yeah, uh, there's a guy,” is what he said. “I don't know enough about yours to say it's the same guy? But he’s had some… mentions.”

 --

  **… Clark frowned. He was getting a little annoyed at them skirting around the issue.**

  **“Okay,** **_your_ ** **Batman. What is he like? What does he do?”**

  **\--**

 …

 They looked at each other again.

 Superman wanted to be sensitive to this other him’s emotions.

 Diana was entirely done with the ‘scandal’.

 “It’s… uh? He tends to show up in random places around the Midwest and south, and attack small time crime. Sometimes drug rings…”

 “...with a boy who can be no older than eleven,” Diana said flatly.

 She snapped the paper Superman was holding out of his hands and handed it to Clark.

 It was a newspaper article titled: _ARE BATMAN AND ROBIN DEAD?_

 Under the headline was a still from a police station camera, with a small boy--round faced, not possible to be over ten--and a dark shadow, glancing upwards as the child gaffitied the ground with a large paintbrush, circling a message. ‘ _call me ROBIN’_

 --

  **Clark took the paper and read it.**

  **He didn’t look at all shocked about what they said.**

  **“Yeah that… sounds like him.”**

  **…**

  **“Usually he does it with the help from his company though, Wayne Enterprises. Without that I don’t--. How does he afford it?”**

  **\--**

 “We don't uh, know?” Superman started as Diana… left the room.

 He fell quiet for a moment, watching her go.

 “...sorry. She… saw a lot of young kids dying in the wars. She's. Not exactly thrilled about the sensationalization this brought.”

 …

 “We haven't actually been able to… _effectively_ contact him, you could say.

 --

  **… Clark looked down at the paper, then stood up.**

  **He held it in his hands, then turned to face what seemed like a random direction.**

  **“I know where he is.”**

  **\--**

 Superman stood, startled. “Hey-- what? But they've been missing since march!”

 --

  **“I know his heartbeat, even in a world that isn’t my own.” He said, turning to hand the paper back to his younger counterpart.**

  **“But first… what would you do if I told you were he is?”**

  **He didn’t want them to hurt him. Even if he wasn’t the same.**

  **\--**

 …

 Superman wasn't a liar anyway--it wasn't his nature--but even he could tell that a false step here would mean a _large_ fight.

 “...vigilantism is against the law. So is child endangerment.” He said. “So we’d bring him to trial and make sure the kid was safe.”

 “...I know you're friends, but you don't know if this world is the same or if the kid’s really alright. None of us do. If we find him, Robin’s safety is the priority.”

 --

  **“Bruce wouldn’t--”**

  **…**

  **Clark sighed, “It’s more complicated than that.”**

  **He looked down, then at the door.**

  **…**

  **“Do you have some civilian clothes I could borrow?”**

  **\--**

 Superman…

  _Yes_ , said his face.

  _I can't let you do that without knowing you'll copearte,_ said the way he stood too, and spread his legs, ready for a real tussle if it came to that.

 “...listen. If it _is_ the same person, and I hope it's not for you and Robin’s sake-- I don't have anything linking Batman to things before two years ago, but I _did_ run a face match on Cyborg’s systems for Bruce Wayne, and. He did disappear. And we don't know where he is. But there's some things that… don't point to savory places.”

 --

  **“Yeah?” Clark said, still stood and ready to do…** **_something_ ** **. He just wasn’t sure what.**

  **Waiting for Superman to continue.**

  **\--**

 Superman didn't _want_ to.

 “... this is a sketch that… is compiled from descriptions kids have of the man who killed their parents.”

 He handed the printed paper over. The one Diana didn't snatch away.

 ...it _was_ just a sketch. It was imperfect. But it could have been…

 “...is this your friend?”

 --

**He snatched it from Superman.**

  **“Killed--”**

  **…**

  **“What--”**

  **Bruce didn’t kill. He especially didn’t kill parents to turn kids into** **_orphans_ ** **.**

  **…**

  **He looked up and stared through the Watchtower to find the nearest exit.**

  **Otherwise he’d just end up crashing through the damn wall.**

  **\--**

 Superman raced after him.

 Grabbed his wrist.

 “Wait-- if you _can_ track him, let us help. You can talk to him all you want if you help us find him and bring him in.”

 --

  **Clark grabbed Superman’s wrist right back, but… he hesitated even if his initial reaction was to just** **_toss him_ ** **to get him out of the way.**

  **“... I don’t know.” He said, because he was never much for lying. “Let me figure this out. Then, we’ll… we’ll go from there. But I’ll come back.”**

  **\--**

 Superman pursed his lips, but… that was probably the best they would get.

 Worst came to worst… they could use the lasso of truth on him again.

 “...alright. Fine. I'll get you civvies.”

 ...he was gone in the blink of an eye, and back again shortly later with a small stack of clothes folded in his arms.

 --

  **Clark took them when offered.**

  **“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll… I’ll try and figure this out. But I don’t want you to hurt him.”**

  **Batman was just a** **_man_ ** **. A man with tons of bruises and scars already to show just how vulnerable he was, even if he hid them so well.**

  **“If he’s truly harming Robin and doing things that… I can’t forgive, I’ll…”**

  **… He swallowed.**

  **“I’ll help you bring him in.”**

  **\--**

 ...okay. That was a better chance than they'd had eight hours ago.

 So Superman nodded.

 ...there's a com in the pants pocket. If you need help,” he said.

 ...and he showed Superman the airlock.

 --

  **“It’s not a tracker is it?” Clark asked, frowning.**

  **\--**

 Superman shook his head.

 “It can be _activated_ as one when you communicate,” he said. “So that if one of us need help but can't risk sound, we can find them. But that's it.”

 --

  **“... Okay.” Clark said with a sigh, then gave his counterpart a very serious look. “I’m trusting you to leave this to me until I say so. We’re…** **_basically_ ** **the same person, I guess. So you know if it’s too bad I will turn him in… right?”**

**“Can you trust me on that?”**

**\--**

“....I want to,” Superman said, nodding, though he still looked nervous. “...we just want to make sure the kid is kept safe.”

\--

  **Clark nodded.**

  **“I’ll try and figure this out. Tell everyone else not to worry, I’ll be back. And… thanks.”**

  **Before Superman could have any more time to protest he made his way out the airlock.**

  **…**

  **He landed somewhere secluded to change first. Then it was off to find Bruce.**

  **\--**

 ...the Bruce Wayne that Clark knew loved movies, but could not survive a trip to the theater without his heart rate ratcheting up into panic levels. So he'd build his own, secure, full-wall viewing area in the house, where he could watch movies for a similar experience without the cold terror of his memories creeping back up his neck.

 He’d invited Clark to join him plenty of times. Alfred made popcorn and milkshakes. Bruce got lost in his walk-in closet of classics. Clark was in charge of being a comfortable pillow.

 ...the first one they'd watched was _Psycho_. “Dated, but good,” Bruce told him.

 ...and the place Bruce’s heartbeat led Superman that day was a regular Bates Motel.

 It was a small, one-story motel out in the foliage of Louisiana, half-lost off a stretch of highway. It was muggy as hell was hot, and the sun beating down offered no promises of a cooling rain.

 He was hard to spot at first--they were the only car parked out front, and the heartbeat was right under the front of it, where a pair of torn jeans and battered black gym shoes stuck out to prove a man was indeed working under the car.

 --

  **Clark watched him for awhile.**

  **…**

  **Okay. How the** **_hell_ ** **was he supposed to approach this? Did he lie? Did he say he was just someone walking by and offer help? Did he tell him who he was?**

  **…**

  **Ah hell.**

  **He didn’t know what would work best. Walking up out of nowhere when there weren’t even any other cars around was already** **_extremely_ ** **suspicious. If this Bruce was anything like his Bruce he would notice.**

  **… But this Bruce also probably didn’t have access to kryptonite.**

  **He did scan for it anyway first, just to be sure.**

  **\--**

 ...kryptonite was a little bit like peppermint.

 Not in that it was usually a sickly green color--though that was true as well--but also in that it had a particular _smell_ to it. It was so strong just the presence was almost enough to taste-- and to taste, for Clark, was to choke.

 ...but the air was clean here. Unless it was hidden in a very well sealed box, it didn't seem like there was any raw kryptonite about;  not close enough for Clark to notice, anyway.

 What was worse was the heat, for humans (who generally weren't solar powered like he was), and after a few minutes of feeling uncomfortably watched, this world’s Bruce Wayne pushed himself out from under the car and wiped his forehead with the folded up sleeve of his white oxford.

 There were smears of grease on his hands and arms from working on the car, covering some of the wild scarring on his arms. That was familiar enough--how His Bruce would tinker with the machines when he had time.

 This wasn't a high tech batmobile, though.

 This was a late-90s white Camry. And the man who was Bruce Wayne had aged very differently, here.

 His hair wasn't streaked with gray yet, or he he dyed it much more fully. It was still dark, but hadn't been slicked back. It seemed he had a little bit of curl to his hair, or maybe he just… had let it go.

 He had a 6 o’clock shadow that was rapidly becoming more of a beard. He wasn't as slim--his muscles stood out far further, held up with a large body and fat reserves that brought him more to Clark’s girth than Alfred’s.

 And even from a distance, his bright blue eyes were glassy and exhausted.

 --

  **He looked younger, even if just as exhausted as the greying man he had grown to know.**

  **…**

  **Well. Watching him from afar wasn’t going to get him anywhere.**

  **Clark looked around and grabbed a dirty rag from a cleaner’s cart that had probably been sitting outside for days and smudged a bit of dirt on his cheek. Ruffled his hair to look like he had been working. Rolled up his sleeves.**

  **And the he stepped from around the back of the motel, pretending to wipe his hands on the rag yet only getting dirt on them rather than making them cleaner.**

  **“Hey there! Havin’ some car trouble?” He called out in his most pleasant country boy voice.**

  **\--**

 The Bruce Clark knew could've folded into a character seamlessly when addressed unexpectedly.

 This one flinched before looking up, not bothering to look any less exhausted.

 “Naw,” he said, mimicking Clark’s accent back at him. “Just a tuneup.”

 --

  **“Y’sure? Ya been at it awhile.” Clark said, still approaching as he shoved the rag into his back pocket.**

  **He listened to see where this Robin was. In the car? Back in the motel?**

  **\--**

 He raised an eyebrow.

 “Been watchin’?”

 The motel.

 There was a heartbeat that hadn't settled into an adult rhythm just yet.

 It fluttered like a hummingbird from somewhere behind the drawn window shades.

 --

  **“Little here ‘n there. Didn’t wanna intrude at first but you’ve been at it awhile ‘n this heat is pretty killer.”**

  **Said the man not even sweating.**

  ** _Could he even sweat?_ **

  **Probably not.**

  **\--**

 Bruce’s face didn't change. His heartbeat did, though. Just a little faster.

 “Yeah? When'd you come by before?”

 --

  **Clark shook his head. “Was ‘round back mostly. Saw ya through the windows.”**

  **He gestured to the staff section of the motel.**

  **\--**

 The heart rate remained up. Bruce didn't believe him.

 “Ah, course. But you don't gotta worry. I was jus finishing up.”

 He stood and wiped his hands down on his pant legs.

 Turned to head towards his door.

 “Have a good one.”  He waved.

 Swiped a card in his pocket to get in, as if he couldn't knock to get Robin to let him in.

 --

  **“Alright, you take care.” Clark said, and watched him go.**

  **…**

  **Dammit.**

  **He walked around towards the staff section again to get out of sight, then flew himself up to a part of the roof where he wouldn’t be seen.**

  **Then he listened in.**

  **\--**

 ...Robin’s heart rate startled upwards for a moment as the door opened, then settled again a few beats later.

 “Have you seen anyone outside all day?”

 The boy didn't respond verbally.

 He yawned.

 He must have shaken his head, though, because Bruce continued.

 “Pack your bags. We’re going.”

  _That_ got a verbal response.

 “But we just _got here,_ ” Robin said, a quiet whine in his voice.

 ...but all the same, there was a creak of bedsprings, and the shuffle of gathering a handful of bags.

 “You can sleep more in the car,” Bruce said. “The front desk should be on lunch. I'll sign us out for tomorrow. Be ready.”

 ...another tired grumble of assent.

 …

 The door opened up again, and Bruce came out alone, carrying a duffle bag, a backpack, and a plastic bag of hairbrushes and what looked like medical supplies.

 --

  **… Shit.**

  **…**

  **Clark dropped down from the roof where he couldn’t be seen and tried to think.**

  **This is why he didn’t do infiltration stuff like Bruce did. He just wasn’t good at it. He hadn’t been trained in it or honed it as a skill. Not unless you counted hiding who he was his entire childhood.**

  **But he waited.**

  **He waited until Bruce had gone in to check out and come back out again and Robin was leaving the room to make himself appear.**

  **“Leavin’ already?”**

  **\--**

 ...Robin leaving the room happened in an instant, fast enough it was only that Clark was actively listening to his heartbeat that the boy’s dash into the car might've been noticed.

 He was low to the ground with a backpack of his own on his back, and had waited until just as Bruce opened the driver’s side door to bolt and slip inside with hardly a sound.

 Robin wasn't being _seen_ , it seemed. And if anyone but Batman had taught him and told him to do that, then this was a far stranger world than even before.

 He was hiding in the back with his head below the window views on either side as Bruce first set his bags in.

 And twitched again to spin around and find Clark still watching them.

 “Nah,” he said. “Jus moving stuff out of the room while in thinkin’ bout it and heading for groceries.”

 But Bruce still pulled his foot back out from the car and turned to face Clark a little more. Squaring up.

 “You gettin’ picked up soon?”

 --

  **Clark appeared relaxed. Not at all ‘ready’ if Bruce were to try anything.**

  **Even if he was.**

  **You didn’t need to** **_look_ ** **ready when you had super speed and strength.**

  **“Nah, not for awhile yet.” He said. “Saw you check out though.”**

  ** _I know you’re lying_ ** **.**

  **\--**

 Bruce had no proof this was _dangerous_.

 But he could still play a bluff.

 He stood up a little straighter and squared his shoulders. He stood meaner.

 “Is at a _problem_?”

  _Why do you care._

  _Give me one reason to deal with you_

 --

  **Not the meanest he’d seen Bruce. Clark even… smiled a little? Like this was somehow amusing.**

  **“No,” he said, and by that point he had run out of lies.**

  **“But a bed is better for a kid to sleep in than the back of a car.”**

  **\--**

 Mentioning Robin was the wrong thing to do.

 It wasn't Bruce who moved.

 It was someone small and quick as a whip who lunged a good ten feet in the air to kick Clark right in the face as his mentor went low for a sweeping kick.

 --

  **Unfortunately for both of them their target didn’t go down.**

  **A hand caught the ankle of the little foot before it could hit his face and** **_break_ ** **and the kick to his leg might as well have felt like kicking a wall.**

  **… He hoped it didn’t hurt Bruce too much.**

  **“I’m not here for any trouble.” He said, trying to sound sincere.**

  **\--**

 For the first time, he'd see Robin in this world in person.

 ...he was still round-faced as in the photo, and his eyes were light blue. Dick Grayson’s eyes. His clothing was secondhand and rather large, and he twisted in Clark’s grip, shouting a battle cry and jabbing his fingers into Clark’s eyes.

 --

  **Even his eyes were like poking a wall.**

  **“Dick-- Dick, stop. I promise it’s fine. I’m not here to hurt you or Bruce or even make you go anywhere! I promise!”**

  **Ugh.**

  **He tried to gently get Dick off him without dropping him or getting him hurt.**

  **It was like swatting at a gnat you desperately didn’t want to kill.**

  **\--**

 Dick didn't want to _be_ on him.

 He shrieked at his name, as his heart rate rocketed up, as nothing he did phased the giant with a grip on his leg.

 Bruce grabbed Dick’s upper body and gave a yank, trying to get him free, whether they lost his shoe in the action or not.

 “ _Go_ ,” he snarled--but not towards Clark.

 Towards Dick, as soon as his ankle slipped free, even as he threw the kid towards the car.

 “No!” Dick said, rolling as he hit the ground.

 --

  **Clark let go of Dick when he felt him being tugged so the kid’s leg wouldn’t get yanked from its socket.**

  **“Listen!” He pleaded, hands going up and waving. “I’m here as a friend! Not to… turn you in or anything!”**

  **\--**

 The Flash had shouted things like that, too, once. They'd left him tied up on the top of a roof and had run two states away before catching their breath.

 The only time Bruce's heart had thundered like this around Clark was when Nightwing had been found in threatening condition, and he was fighting with panic over his son’s life.

 This Bruce’s heart thundered the same way, even or especially Clark knew their real names.

 They'd spent the last two months as anything from Matches and Robbie to Blake and Richie. Anything but Bruce and Dick.  

 They'd slept in sheds and swapped out cars and hadn't stayed in the same place for more than two days at a time. They'd given up on haircuts half the time. They'd stopped going out to do the one thing that felt like a breath of fresh air--

 And they were still found.

 ...Dick ran to the woods.

 Bruce broke off in the other direction, leg bruised from the strike, but desperate to lead the other away.

 Not talking. Just fleeing for what his heartbeat implied was life.

 --

  **Why did everything have to be so complicated?**

  **Clark was in front of Bruce in an instant, grabbing him and using his momentum to try and fling him (gently) onto his back.**

  **Funny. Bruce had actually taught him the move. He taught him a lot of moves like it at one point after realizing that Clark actually had no practical fighting skills. Not that he was great at them now by any means, but… he had learned some basics.**

  **\--**

 It was mostly the surprise and strength of the grip that made it work. Most people, in a throw, had to let go to avoid their own toque.

 Superman didn't have those limits, and inexperiencedly trying to throw Bruce gently meant holding  the arm. And Bruce landed with his head safe, sure-- but his back hit the ground flat and gave a _crack_ of a sound, along with the teeth in Bruce’s jaw. His arm wasn't out of its socket with the throw, but it _burned_ with being twisted, and the impact had knocked the air out of him.

 In the tree line, a little boy screamed, but didn't run out.

 (...

 Bruce had had nightmares about this sort of scenario.

 Dick had picked them up, after what'd happened at the pit stop. After Ra’s al Ghul’s ninja had walked right passed the car while Dick dozed alone in the passenger seat, an easy target. He'd only woken at the sound of shattering store window glass, running inside to find the fight mostly over and the store clerk slumped under a fallen shelf, Bruce bloody knuckles and the little basket he'd been trying to buy their lunch in tipped over on the floor, strawberry protein shake rolling back and forth on the tile, like it had been a normal reason for falling.

 And now it was one man, not five, but neither Dick nor Bruce could so much as make him flinch.)

 Even winded, (--this one was more out of shape, despite being younger. Hadn't been going out each night. Hadn't been eating crazy healthful meals from Alfred--) Bruce tried to kick out enough to shove away from the stranger. Shove himself and whatever was about to happen a little further out of sight from where Dick had run.

 He gathered what air he could to gasp out, “who--?”

 --

  **Clark winced at the sounds that Bruce's body made and instantly felt horrible.**

  **He tried to grab Bruce's wrists, getting on top of him to just get him to** **_stop_ ** **.**

  **“A friend!” He tried again. “I'm a friend of yours from another world! I'm not even from here! I'm not with the League. I'm not with anyone, just-- Bruce please calm down. you can't hurt me anyway!”**

  **He honestly never thought he'd say that to Bruce. Back home Bruce was still the only one who** **_could_ ** **if he wanted to on a regular basis.**

  **\--**

 Back home, Bruce would’ve placed Clark’s hands around his neck and told him _if you strangle me, I'd take it_ , and would've waited. Would've let him. Trusted it enough for that.

 This Bruce shook as Clark pinned him-- maybe adrenaline. Maybe still fear.

 ...but he was still Bruce. If anyone in this world knew about portals and alternate universes, Bruce knew about them too, and just because his eyes widened a little in shock didn't mean he knew what kind of person might consider themselves his friend.

 “What do you want?” he croaked through his breathlessness.

 --

  **“I--”**

  **He didn't know, but the shaking, the fear in Bruce's eyes, it was horrible to see. He didn't see that very often at all, and when he did…**

  **…**

  **“I-- to make sure you're alright.” He said, grip easing up just slightly. “The Justice League found me but in my world you're part of it too, and you weren't there. And then they told me you were some vigilante with a kid and--” He laughed despite everything. “--and that's about par for the course, but not like this.” His expression fell then.**

  **“They said you've killed people. I-- that can't be right.”**

  **He sounded heartbroken. In disbelief.**

  **\--**

 …

 No denial came.

 Just the shaky, slow return of his breath. His wrists tensing and untensing under Clark, but not trying to break his grip.

 No denial, though. Just eyes, blue and shaking, watching Clark close.

 He didn't even defend it. No ‘they deserved it.’

 No ‘I thought they were a threat.’

 His adam’s apple bobbed.

 “...if you're going to get rid of me for it, at least do it somewhere the kid can't see,” he said.

 --

  **He sighed, “I'm not going to ‘get rid of you’.”**

  **For a moment though he did just stay there, keeping Bruce in place, thinking. Looking down into his sweaty, unshaven face.**

  **“... Why do you do it?”**

  **\--**

 His jaw shook.

 “I don't anymore,” he said, voice soft. “I left.”

 --

  **“Left where? Who?” He asked, voice dropping too.**

  **Understanding. Trying to be calming despite the situation.**

  **\--**

 He hated that understanding tone.

 (He missed it.)

 It couldn't be real.

 (He missed trusting it.)

 “Ra’s,” he rasped.

 --

  **Clark looked… confused.**

  **“Ra’s…?”**

  **There was… fuck, there was** **_everything_ ** **he didn't know if his Bruce's past. He didn't even know if this was the same or who Ra was.**

  **\--**

 His adam’s apple bobbed again.

 Sweat was getting into his eyes, pressed down in the hot pavement.

 But… at least he could still see the meta’s eyes. Hear the confusion in his voice.

 ...that was good. In its own way. To never know.

 “The League of Assassins,” he said. “Ra’s al Ghul.”

 --

  **“Assass--” Clark had to blink and double-take.**

  **“... Okay.” He said, and moved a bit.**

  **“If I let you up you're not going to run or do something stupid and try to punch me, right?”**

  **\--**

 ...no.

 Bruce knew when he was outmatched.

 “Don't hurt the kid…” was all he asked as he gave a small nod.

 Dick had long stopped shouting, his hummingbird heartbeat gone from the tree line.

 Obeying what Bruce told him for once. Running away.

 But Bruce hated the curl in his gut that said not even Dick could avoid this man’s speed and strength.

 --

  **“I'm not going to hurt either of you. I know Dick back home too.”**

  **He lifted Bruce up onto his feet like he weighed nothing. “I'm sorry about your back. I didn't mean to do it that hard.”**

  **\--**

 Bruce leaned into the lift to stay upright. His arm was still held stiff at an angle, and his hip ached from the fall.

 He shook his head.

 Apologies rolled right off.

 Where was he going to be steered?”

 --

  **Clark didn't yank him anywhere, but he did gently guide him to some shade where they could talk.**

  **“Why were you with a League of Assassins?” He asked once Bruce had some shade.**

  **\--**

 He went. Slumped down in the shade. It helped, some.

 “...they said they were going to fix the world.”

 ( _you had to cut out evil from the root_ )

 “I believed them.”

 ( _He had nothing else to believe by then_ )

 --

  **… Clark sighed. He leaned back and let his head sink.**

  **…**

  **“And Robin? Where did you come across him?”**

  **\--**

 …

 “Gotham,” he croaked again, finally. “...they murdered his parents in front of him.”

 ..

 “I couldn't _leave_ him.”

 His voice had been rough since the air was knocked out of him, but only now did his voice finally crack.

 Dick didn't have to become like him.

 --

  **So that was the same.**

  **Clark looked over at him, sympathetic.**

  **“Why get into vigilante work? Why not just lay low with the kid?”**

  **\--**

 ….there was finally some sort of familiar light in Bruce’s eyes as he glanced up. The clarity of when he'd done something. Saved someone's life. Felt _okay_ with existing.

 “They'll catch us eventually,” was what Bruce said, though. “But heroes will protect a kid in a mask.”

 “...besides.”

 Finally, there was a small quirk of a smile.

 (He didn't recognize the stranger in front of him at all.)

 “Superman can't throw a punch for shit. Fuckin’ offensive.”

 --

  **Clark looked a little hurt. More amused than anything, but still a bit taken off guard.**

  **“Hey!” He almost whined.**

  **\--**

 Bruce look at him, snorting.

 “...what? Fanboy?” he asked.

 --

  **“No, Superman. Just not this world’s Superman.”**

  **… But he sighed, “But you’re right. You said the same thing to me back home.”**

  ** _‘You’re a terrible fighter, Clark.’_ ** **In that disapproving monotone.**

  **\--**

 …

 Bruce didn't seem to have a response to that.

 He closed his mouth, closed his eyes, and covered his face in his hands.

 He was _very_ sore and tired, and just wanted whatever was going on to… stop.

 --

  **When he didn’t get a reply Clark looked over. His hand moved like he was going to reach up and touch his shoulder, but thought better of it and dropped again. His hands clasped in front of him.**

  **“I’m sorry for all this. I was just… scared in this world you might be dead. Or…** **_evil_ ** **or something. I had to be sure.”**

  **\--**

 …

 He shook his head at that.

 He didn't understand.

 --

  **… Clark looked over at him.**

  **“ Is there anything I can do to help?”**

  **He sounded so sincere.**

  **\--**

 …

 Bruce lowered his hands.

 He looked Clark in the eyes with his own exhausted blue ones.

 “...take us to your world,” he said.

 “Or another one. Somewhere we can't be found.”

 --

  **Clark blanched. He looked away.**

  **“I don't know if I can. Or if that would be a good idea. I already have a Bruce. If there were two, I-- I dunno if it might make things unstable.”**

  **He sighed, “But-- are you entirely against working with** **_this world's_ ** **Justice League? They could protect you. And Dick.”**

  **\--**

 …

 He didn't look to the direction Dick had vanished in.

 “...they've made their opinion on me clear. One I’m in prison it's just a waiting game for me.”

  _Until one of Ra’s comes to get me._

 --

  **“What if I could convince them otherwise?” Clark asked.**

  **\--**

 Bruce looked so tired.

 Exhausted.

 He didn't want to run and fight anymore.

 “...do what you want,” he said.

 He couldn't stop him anyway.

 --

  **“This is about what** **_you_ ** **want, Bruce.” He said, sighing.**

  **“I'm going to talk to them. But… in the meantime.” Clark looked at him. “You need to take a damn nap. You look like absolute crap.”**

  **\--**

 Bruce snorted.

 “....that mean I'm allowed to move, now?” he asked.

 --

  **“Yes.” Clark huffed with a grin.**

  **“If offer to take point, but I feel like that would just make sleeping harder for you.”**

  **\--**

 Take point?

 It's not like they were doing things that needed it.

 He just shook his head and finally pushed himself up from the side of the hotel.

 He didn't go back to the room.

 He headed to the woods, where Dick had run, pausing only to grab two drinks of water from the trunk of the car.

 “...if you come back, we won't be here,” he said.

 It was as close to a peace offering as he had. The knowledge of where they wouldn't be.

 ...and he limped off into the woods, to try and find his kid.

 --

  **… Clark hesitated following him, stopping at the edge.**

  **“I can help you find him.”**

  **\--**

 …

 Bruce paused long enough to glance back.

 And he shook his head.

 “He’ll trust me better alone,” he said.

 And kept going.

 --

  **... Clark nodded.**

  **“I’ll be back once I’ve figured some stuff out.”**

  **…**

  **“Be safe.” He added, took a step back, and took off like a rocket.**

  **\--**

 ….as he left, he might've been able to hear Bruce start shouting his son’s name. Trying to find him again.

 But otherwise, there was nothing else.

 …

 The Watchtower still circled the planet. And the younger superman of this world was still on it, waiting for the other’s return.

 --

  **The airlock opened and Clark stepped in, brushing the ice from his hair and shirt from the coldness of space.**

  **He instantly sought out his counterpart.**

  **“I’ve talked to him.”**

  **\--**

 “And?” Superman says, taking an anxious step forward.

 --

  **“He’s--” Clark hesitated. “He’s just trying to live. He’s trying to run from the League of Assassins after they killed the boy’s parents. He took him and ran and has been just trying to stay ahead of them.”**

  **He hoped Superman would understand.**

  **“He needs** **_help_ ** **, not punishment.”**

  **\--**

 …

 Superman took a deep breath. Listening.

 “...and putting the kid in a mask?”

 Even if he needed help--yeah, okay--...they needed to know if the kid needed even more.

 --

  **“It was to keep him safe. The only way Bruce knows how.” Clark said, or… guessed.**

  **“Th-” He sighed. “It’s what Bruce does. Don’t tear them apart, it’ll just send them both to crime. They need each other. If you took them in, helped keep them safe but gave them the outlet to** **_help_ ** **…”**

  **\--**

 Superman raised his hands a little, cutting the guy off.

 “Woah, woah, I'm not… you're a little… involved in this,” he said. Sighed again.

 “...look. If you let us know where they are, we’ll talk to them. Decide for ourselves. ...you understand, right?”

 He looked sorry.

 But.

 “And if it looks like you're right and they just need help, we’ll do what we can.”

 And if the kid was placed in direct danger, they'd figure something else out.

 Maybe just place rules on them in return for protection.

 It didn't have to be drastic, as long as Batman wasn't _hurting_ him.

 --

  **Clark balled his hands into fists and for a moment looked like he wanted to argue. But then he relented, shoulders slumping and face softening.**

  **“... Fine. Alright. I can let him know. See what he thinks about that.”**

  **He looked back up at Superman. “He’s tired. I don’t think he has much more fight in him.”**

  **…**

  **“Do you promise not to hurt him? Or take him away from the kid? He’s not hurting him, that I can promise you.”**

  **\--**

 “I don't want to fight him,” Superman promised, voice gentle. “But we just need to hear the situation from him, himself, okay?”

 “If he's not hurting him, we’ll do all we can to keep them together. That doesn't mean they can do whatever they want, but that's what we need to _talk_ to them about. Not just an intermediary.”

 Superman here was young.

 He hadn't died. He hadn't been betrayed.

 His eyes were kind.

 He meant it.

 --

  **It was probably worrying for him to look at another version of himself and see the stress around his eyes and something darker behind them. Clark had found out about his home planet only days before the invasion. Found more of his kind.** **_Had to kill them_ ** **.**

  **Then he died. Was brought back by the man who had wanted to kill him in the first place.**

  **Things had been… rough. Since Superman** **_became_ ** **Superman.**

  **You could tell his world was far from peaceful or ideal.**

  **“... Right. Thank you.”**

  **…**

  **He looked up at Superman. “Have you mentioned any of this to Diana?”**

  **She seemed like a much harder sell.**

  **\--**

 The first thing Superman had asked once Clark was lucid was _‘you're really Kryptonian?_ ’

 Like he'd never met another one before. Like a mirror image was less exciting than the fact that image was _kryptonian._

 “No. But Diana’s not the only one on this ship who’s going to have a say in what happens,” he said. “...she's worried about Robin. If what you're saying is true, I'm sure she'll agree to some kind of arrangement.”

 …

 He didn't know what caused the stress around those eyes. What caused the fear. The need to be _reassured_ that the League could put aside personal feelings to help people they may not personally agree with.

 He didn't know.

 “We’re not heartless,” he promised, quietly.

 --

  **Clark rubbed his face, which was beginning to grow a bit of a 5 o’clock shadow. It didn’t help him from looking any less stressed.**

  **“Okay.” He said quietly, then reached into his pocket to make sure the com was still there.**

  **“... Hopefully you’ll hear from me from this next.”**

  **He turned to leave again.**

  **\--**

 ….Superman nodded, but stopped him before he could leave fully.

 “...I just wanted you to know. ...the zeta tube’s found your world and is just about getting to coordinating it. It'll be done in a few hours at most. Just… so you know.”

 --

  **A mix of glee and anxiety welled up in Clark’s chest. Obviously getting back home was his top priority, but now he had gotten so involved with this world’s Bruce he** **_had_ ** **to see this through.**

  **“Right. Thank you. I’ll… I’ll try to make things quick.”**

  **He turned to leave again with a renewed sense of urgency.**

  **\--**

 ….

 In truth, it didn't take Superman long to travel from the Watchtower to Earth, even without warps.

 ...despite Bruce’s assurance they'd be long gone by the time Superman (or anyone) came looking again, his heartbeat was in that same, isolated stretch of Louisiana when Clark went to look for it.

...he and Dick Grayson (small, curled up, looking fragile as a dry leaf) were still in the woods, now on rocks by the foot of a small stream. The boy sat on Bruce’s lap, little arms clinging around his neck, and Bruce holding him secure around his middle, comforting him by rubbing his back as he felt someone coming closer once again.

\--

**Clark landed close enough that Bruce would be able to hear and didn’t attempt to make his approach subtle.**

  **“It’s me again.” He said, pushing out from the brush and to the edge of the stream.**

  **\--**

 Bruce gave a small acknowledgement in a head tilt.

 Dick lifted his whole head though, and gave Clark something like a glare with puffy eyes. He'd been crying.

 “What do you want?” the kid demanded.

 --

  **Clark sat down a safe distance away to give them both space.**

  **“Just to talk,” he said. “I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to scare you.”**

  **\--**

 Bruce brought his hand up to cup the back of Dick’s head and pulled it back down to rest against his shoulder.

 It was fine.

 “What is it now?” he asked.

 --

  **“... I told them your situation and they're willing to come down and listen. I-- they didn't promise anything, but they're sympathetic. I told them not to take Robin away from you, and you need help and protection more than judgement and prosecution.”**

  **“They can help you. If you're willing to try.”**

  **He folded his hands in his lap.**

  **\--**

 …

 As different as they were, the shadow that passed over Bruce’s face said enough.

 He didn't like asking for help in this world, either.

 "We’ll be fine,” he said in as neutral a tone he could manage.

 --

  **“You're not fine, Bruce.” Clark said with some annoyance. Perhaps affectionate annoyance.**

  **“You might not be the Bruce I know, but I can tell when you're fine and when you're not, and at this rate you're going to drag yourself into the ground. I'm not saying completely 100% trust the Justice League--”**

  **He didn't think Bruce 100% trusted anyone outside his family.**

  **“--but let them support you. For Robin's sake at least.”**

  **\--**

 Bruce tensed a little, bracing for something--

 And it was Robin shoving his head up again, angry (a split-second temper) and his little hands gripping Bruce’s shirt like lifelines.

 “You don't get to use me against him!” Robin snarled.

 Maybe he couldn't fight Superman.

 But he still wasn't afraid.

 The same fearlessness in his eyes as a boy who could leap off skyscrapers without a harness.

 And Bruce couldn't tame that fire even back home, with Alfred and a schedule and school.

 This one had been cooped up in cars and racing for their lives since he was nine, untempered by socialites and parties and having to save face.

 And even as Bruce wound up burying his own face in the kid’s shoulder, switching their roles from when Superman first appeared, the kid didn't get anymore restrained.

 “...at least let us pretend there's another option,” Bruce sighed, trying to give the kid a gentle tug back down. “You're not going anywhere…”

 --

  **“... Maybe there is.” Clark said, and reached into his pocket.**

  **He pulled out the com and held it out to him.**

  **“If you press the button on the side it will transmit and broadcast your location. If you decide to take them up on their offer.”**

  **…**

  **“There's no tracker in it. Not until you press the button.”**

  **\--**

 …

 Bruce took it, after one long moment of watching him.

 So they didn't have to do it now, scared and tired.

 They didn't have to rush, one day in and no backing out.

 “...we’ll think about it,” he said.

 --

  **“... Please do.” Clark said.**

  **Hesitated.**

  **“They figured out how to get me back home, so I won't be around when you do.”**

  **He had wanted to make sure it went smooth, but… that wasn't going to happen.**

  **\--**

 ...Bruce looked up at him again.

 “...the one you know. Is Dick with him, too?”

 --

  **Clark smiled, “Yeah. He goes by Nightwing now though. A lot older.”**

  **…**

  **“There's also Tim.”**

  **\--**

 Bruce made a noise, interrupting him.

 He didn't want to know all that.

 He didn't want to know what he'd missed.

 “...I just needed to know he's alright.”

 (Dick gave him a thunk on the side, as if to say _of course I am. I'm right here, stupid.)_

 --

  **“Yeah. He's alright.” Clark said.**

  **“Everything is alright.”**

  ** _For now._ **

  ** _\--_ **

 ...Bruce nodded.

 “ _We’re alright, too_ ,” Dick mumbled into Bruce’s shoulder, probably meaning for only his mentor to hear it.

 ...and Bruce ran a hand through the kid’s hair, as if to acknowledge he’d heard.

 “...we’ll think about it,” he said again.

 “....you should go home.”

 Back to where things were okay.

 --

  **“... Yeah.” He said, and then stood. “You take care now.”**

  **He walked off into the woods to get a better takeoff point before heading back up to the watchtower.**

  **\--**

 ...he left them with the communicator.

 ...maybe, if things kept going like they did, one day one of them would press it.

 ...Superman was ready for him when he returned, even if he was disappointed that Batman and Robin weren't with him.

 ...he led Clark back to his room to rest. Told him to take it easy. Got him some dinner in the meantime.

 In another hour, the zeta portal was fixed up and ready for him.

 Ready to send him back to a place that was maybe rougher, but… familiar, all the same.

 --

  **Clark told him what he had done. That maybe they would hear from them, but he assured them Robin would be okay.**

  **He changed back into his suit and thanked everyone for everything they had done for him.**

  **… And then it was just a matter of stepping through the portal to head back home.**

  **\--**

 …

 Superman handed him a new communicator before he left.

 “I doubt it'll work across dimensions,” he said. “But… keep it as a token, if nothing else. If you need help and can reach us, we’ll always try to lend a hand.”

 He smiled.

 And the zeta portal started up.

 ...it was cyan blue, and pulsed like the energy spike Clark had fallen into.

 And as he went through, he would be there.

 Spat out somewhere high above Upstate New York’s rivers.

 --

  **“Thanks,” he smiled, and then was back home.**

  **It took him a moment to get his air-footing.**

  **…**

  **He put his hand to the com in his ear, “Bruce?”**

  **\--**

 There was a thunk on the other end.

“ _KENT_! Where are you?!”


	2. th fuckin'

_ There was a thunk on the other  end. “KENT! Where are you?!” _

_Relief._

\--

**Clark sighed in relief too, not bothering to hide it from the com. “Back home.”**

**“How long have I been gone?”**

**He was already flying towards him.**

**\--**

“Metropolis?” Bruce asked, confused and not realizing--

His heartbeat had moved since Clark last heard it. 

Bruce was nearby. Near where Clark had vanished. 

“We’ve been out of contact for almost two hours. What do you mean ‘gone’?”

\--

**“I'll, uh, that'll be a story. I'll be with you in a second. I'm close.”**

**It took him under a minute to get to where he could hear Bruce.** **_His_ ** **Bruce.**

**\--**

Bruce was in a field. Mask and cloak on. His dark plane wasn't far away, and he'd obviously roped off an area a little further in, where the epicenter had been. 

He'd come to investigate what had happened to Clark. At the place  _ Bruce  _ asked him to be. 

He stepped forwards towards the shadow in the sky as Clark came into view, heart steady in a pattern of  _ please, don't let him think it was a trap. _

\--

**Clark landed and didn't say anything as he closed the distance between them.**

**He wrapped his arms around Bruce and hugged him, face shoving into his shoulder.**

**\--**

It was… unnerving. 

Not as much as losing contact, and signal, and evidence of what had happened--but it was unnerving all the same. To have Superman say nothing and act in such a way, out in a field, where anything or anyone might be around. 

Batman wrapped one protective arm around him, as if supporting someone injured, unsure how else to handle it right now. 

“What happened?”

\--

**“It was another dimension.” Clark said, finally pulling away. His head hung.**

**“You were--”**

**He looked up and met the permanent scowl the cowl gave Bruce.**

**“You weren't with the League. It was you and Robin. You were running. You looked awful.”**

**He tried to keep his voice steady.**

**\--**

...Bruce didn't know what to say. If what Clark had seen was a vision, or a dream, or real--he wasn't even sure why it was so distressing, in a way (it was  _ him _ . He didn't-- if something bad happened to him, it shouldn't be distressing) but this wasn't the place for it. 

His hand on Clark’s back tightened a little. Steered him a little. 

“Come on,” he said, voice low and gruff. “Let's get you back to the cave.”

Trying to take care. Getting Clark somewhere safe. 

\--

**Clark walked with him. Took a deep breath.**

**“Right. Yeah. I can tell you more there.” He nodded. Realized he had run and hugged Bruce before anything else.**

**“Sorry.”**

**He knew Bruce wasn't a PDA kinda guy, and they were just friends after all.**

**…**

**\--**

Bruce just nodded. Squeezed Clark’s shoulder. 

He didn't acknowledge the apology. Guided him into the plane. 

… and inside the plane, he gave Clark something. A little cypher tool. It was tubular and metal, and made small, clicking noises as the parts twisted. 

It was something that Tim used to fidget with. To calm down. His cypher toy and headphones. 

“...it’ll be twenty minutes,” he said, and pulled on the headset before taking off. 

“Alfred, Superman’s been recovered, we’re en-route, can you get some tea…”

And they were flying. 

\--

**“... Alright. Thank you.”**

**Clark got in the back and put on the headset before looking at the little toy.**

**…**

**He messed with it as they flew, staring out at the world as it passed.**

**It was nice to just watch the world go by sometimes.**

**\--**

It wasn't long. New Jersey was already a short flight from New York on a regular plane. In the batplane, it went by even faster. 

They dove beneath the lake and settled into the hanger finally, and Bruce glanced over once more to make sure Clark was aware are able to move. 

\--

**It actually took a moment for him to move. He blinked and removed his headset before flying up and out of the plane, landing almost numbly beside it.**

**He looked around and felt… peace. Being somewhere he recognized. Somewhere he knew Bruce was safe and okay.**

**“... Did you tell the others?” He asked quietly.**

**\--**

...Bruce nodded. 

“Diana,” he said. “And Cyborg. ...I had them keeping perimeter and searching for you.”

\--

**Clark nodded, “I was there a lot longer than I was gone.”**

**“When I got too close it was like a blue light and I felt a tug and there was a flash, and then I woke up in a bed inside what they called The Watchtower. It was a satellite orbiting Earth. It was the Justice League, but… there were so many others. It was so different…”**

**He was clearly still dazed, but felt if he didn’t talk he would just keep staring at Bruce without saying anything and that would be weird, right?**

**\--**

Bruce listened. 

He nodded, opening up the doors to the plane and helping guide Clark out before tugging off his cowl, but he was listening. 

“Another Justice League,” he said, prompting as he led Clark to a cot. 

Had him sit. 

Alfred had left two cups and a kettle of tea by the computer. Bruce poured one and pushed it into Clark’s hands. 

Shock?

\--

**He felt like he shouldn’t have been as shocked as he was, and he just kept talking as Bruce put the cup in his hands.**

**“Yeah, but this one had been together for** **_fourteen years_ ** **.** **_Fourteen years, Bruce_ ** **. And Diana had started it? But you weren’t even a part of it. You weren’t even fighting in Gotham.”**

**“I was there? I was younger? Like, way younger. 20’s or something. He was so excited to see another Kryptonian even if it was just himself from another dimension. I don’t think-- I don’t think they had an invasion because of how excited he was.”**

**_He hadn’t had to snap the neck of the first other Kryptonian he ever met._ **

**\--**

Bruce sat across from him. Watching. 

He’d set the computer to record. Didn't mention it. 

He just needed notes. But Clark clearly needed attention. 

And he didn't know how to give him it, or what the right kind was--all he had was the experience with his kids, and where he'd failed with them.

But Clark was something else. 

“Remember to breathe,” he said, and let Clark keep talking. 

\--

**As if on command he took a breath.**

**Kept going.**

**“When I mentioned you they looked you up but couldn’t find you because you were running with Robin. It was Dick. He was just a little kid. Like, 10? Maybe. I tried to help but I don’t know if you took it or not. I--”**

**He paused and pulled out the communicator.**

**“They gave me this. I don’t know if it will even work across dimensions.”**

**He held it out for Bruce to take. Surely he would want to at least see how it worked, if it was just a standard com.**

**\--**

Bruce took it. Glanced down. 

...it was more advanced than what they currently had, but it did look… normal enough. He could see pretty easily how it worked. 

He set it down, nodding to Clark. 

...he believed him.

Clark had been to another physical world. 

“...are you feeling alright? Nothing there was… inherently toxic?”

He'd survived alright?

\--

**“Yeah. I feel fine. They said I just… showed up in atmo. They were looking at an anomaly in New Mexico I think. I just kinda showed up.”**

**“They have, uh, zeta tubes? Their Cyborg said it was like a more stable Mother box. They used it to teleport around and get me home.”**

**\--**

...he nodded. 

Listening still. 

He hadn't heard of any of those sorts of things before. Still, he pursed his lips some. “They were using motherboxes?”

\--

**“‘Something like a mother box yet more stable’ is what the Cyborg said. It glowed the same color as what I had been looking at in New York.”**

**\--**

“Do you think that's what dragged you in?” He asked. 

\--

**“Honestly it could have been. I can’t say it felt the same, but both achieved the same thing.” Clark took another breath and… finally sipped his tea.**

**\--**

...that was good, at least. He seemed to be coming back to himself more. 

“...and the world was different enough to be distressing.”

More so than just another world was. 

“...or it was similar enough?”

\--

**“** **_You_ ** **were distressing.” Clark said, looking up at him.**

**“You had** **_killed people_ ** **. You were an assassin. You said you-- you had run from a guy named Ra? Ra… ahgul? After they killed Dick’s parents?”**

**He was studying Bruce’s face as he said it.**

**\--**

...they'd known enough other long enough now, unfortunately. Clark wouldn't be able to miss the recognition flickering through Bruce’s widening eyes. 

“ _ Ra’s? _ ” he said, pronouncing it correctly. The same way his counterpart had.

\--

**“... The League of Assassins.” Clark said.**

**“You know him? He exists here?”**

**He inched a little closer on the bed towards Bruce across from him.**

**\--**

Bruce didn't shift away. But he did look down, nodding. 

“...yes. He does. He's… you wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

“...he was one of my mentors.”

\--

**Clark huffed and gave his friend a tired smile. “Today I’ll believe anything.”**

**…**

**“What happened?”**

**\--**

Bruce snorted. “With Ra’s? I was learning.”

“...as soon as I had access to my fortune I took it and left. And I sought out the most dangerous people in the world to teach me everything they knew. Ra’s is one of them. He started getting interested in me as a successor. I betrayed him and left before it went anywhere.”

…

“He can't die.”

\--

**“Uh,” Clark blinked.**

**“... Like. How -I- can’t die?” (False.) “Or…** **_really_ ** **can’t die?”**

**\--**

Bruce shook his head. 

“...as in you're not the first one I saw brought back to life.”

\--

**“... Oh.”**

**…**

**Clark wasn’t sure what to say.**

**“I’m sorry.” Was what he settled with.**

**\--**

He shook his head. 

(It wasn't ever good to see things like that. He knew a little of what was coming when they put Clark under to revive him. Of the crazed look that the revival brought. Of missing a soul.)

He just shook his head. 

“...he claims he's been alive hundreds of years. That's not someone you can shake.”

Bruce here had, because of his wealth. Because of garnering Ra’s respect--and keeping enough distance, afterwards. 

“...you sure they were running from him?”

\--

**… He looked down.**

**“Yeah. While I was there I was just…” He raised a hand as if to gesture to** **_something_ ** **but didn’t know what. “I was just trying to help him. Get the Justice League to help him. But--” He laughed and looked over at his friend.**

**“You hate asking for help.”**

**\--**

His lips quirked upwards briefly at that. 

“...getting a little better, I've been told.”

But asking for help had been what got Clark in trouble in the first place. 

\--

**Clark smiled, “Yeah. You are.”**

**…**

**His smile faded soon after however. “You would think what with everything that’s happened this wouldn’t bother me as much as it does.” He looked up at him again. “I feel like I didn’t do enough while I was there. Like I should have been able to get you and Dick into a better situation than I found you. Like I couldn’t…”**

**His voice dropped low.**

**“Save you.”**

**\--**

…

( _ You'd killed people,  _ Clark had said.)

(Dick didn't deserve that.)

“...I deserved whatever situation I got myself in,” Bruce said. 

He stood. 

Poured Clark some more tea. 

\--

**Clark frowned and reached up to grab Bruce’s hand once he got close. Loose enough so he could pull away if he wanted to.**

**“No you don’t. Don’t say that.”**

**\--**

Bruce stilled at the touch, but let Clark hold him. 

...he rarely protested what Clark wanted, unless it was dangerous. 

This time, it was tempting just out of habit. 

“...he stayed with Ra’s. He’d have known there wasn't any real escape without protection.”

\--

**“It was a bad decision, but you didn’t** **_deserve_ ** **it.” Clark said.**

**The loose hold on Bruce’s hand turned into a small squeeze, but just for a moment.**

**\--**

He tried not to think about it. 

“...you can't protect everyone from themselves. Not even as Superman.”

\--

**His voice got quiet.**

**“I can try.”**

**He had been trying. All this time. As things got less rocky between them he had realized what all of his kids had meant.**

**_‘Putting up with his bullshit. Being there for him.’_ **

**Bruce** **_needed_ ** **someone to balance him out and he had realized early on that Alfred didn’t count in that regard. The butler would patch his wounds and scold him, but he wasn’t someone who could seriously be there for him in the same way the kids were. In the same way a** **_friend_ ** **was.**

**They had fights sometimes, and more often than not it had been because Bruce was starting to get stuck in a loop. Chasing his tail. Running downward and not looking back. And Clark spoke up and yelled at him and sometimes grabbed him and pulled him back up because he couldn’t stand to watch the guy he now considered one of his best friends run himself into the ground.**

**Maybe he couldn’t save Bruce from himself.**

**But like hell if he wasn’t going to try anyway.**

**\--**

“You'll run yourself into the ground worrying about everyone else,” Bruce said, unaware of what Clark was thinking. 

Unaware of what his kids had been asking of Superman each time he visited. 

Dick’s inability to watch him do it any longer. Tim, anxious, but trying to hope Bruce would float without him there--

He took the meds. He meditated and ate well. He exercised well into the territory of self punishment. 

But he was just… fragile. An equilibrium that Bruce couldn't balance alone. That Alfred had never had any idea how to handle. That the kids understood but couldn't sacrifice their future and youth and  _ lives _ to once they recognized it, however much they loved him. 

...Bruce desperately needed that friendship. Adult friendship. One that would pull him back when death on the job sounded like the only fitting way to go. And when he took his meds with alcohol, and started to try and dull the world around its edges. 

(Some people, they broke and couldn't figure out how to put themselves together again, no matter how long they took. No matter how many resources they had.)

(Bruce’s cracks only got worse with the years. With the worry. With losing contact with Clark in a haze of static, and thinking,  _ no, he's not supposed to be able to die on me _ )

He needed someone who hadn't been dependent on him for so long and shouldn't have had to support him. 

And despite how much he pushed Clark away, gruff and cold and--having done nothing to deserve grace. 

Clark was still here. 

Hanging around his murderer. 

If Clark wanted to hold onto him, Bruce wouldn't pull away. 

\--

**“It’s not** **_everyone_ ** **I worry about.”**

**He wasn’t really thinking about anything outside the cave now. They were alone. The only cameras recording them were Bruce’s own on a closed circuit.**

**He wasn’t thinking about much of anything as he stood up and kissed Bruce.**

**Clark had missed him. Worried about him. Worried about him** **_so damn much_ ** **. He worried every night listening to that damn heartbeat and waiting for it to stop so he could jump out of bed only to fly to a corpse.**

**Then seeing another Bruce, another Batman, have even** **_less_ ** **of a support system as the one he knew.**

**It had torn him up inside.**

**Clark wasn’t dependent on Bruce like the kids had been. He didn’t live with him or scold him all the time (even though he did plenty), he didn’t stop him from partaking in some of his destructive habits.**

**… But he did redirect that energy when he could.**

**Watching old movies he didn’t even like. Letting Bruce lean against him. Talking about ‘business’ yet still keeping things casual and friendly without getting too serious. Cracking jokes at one another.**

**Being there to** **_physically_ ** **stop him when he was doing something too dangerous for his own good.**

**He could be there to keep the delicate equilibrium in check while not having to sacrifice his own life for it. Just some of his time. Just some of his heart to a grumpy, cold man who looked like he didn’t appreciate even a second of it on the outside.**

**But Clark knew he did.**

**\--**

...that was something that should've come with a warning sign about Bruce: how his honesty was so cold. How his affections were so hard to spot. 

He gave gifts. He tried to care for others financially--It was called smothering. He couldn't speak it. He couldn't hold well. Sometimes, people burned to touch. 

But Clark was only warm. 

…

He couldn't be blamed if he began stiff. Startled. Mind racing, looking for the explanation--hints he'd missed. Moments to re-interpret in a rush. Trying to understand why Superman would do this--stand there, warm mouth on Bruce’s and hand soft on his wrist. 

...and then, he decided if this was real, if this was something real--

He already knew when Clark held him, he wouldn't pull away. 

Bruce closed his eyes and steadied his ragged breathing around the kiss, and leaned into it, bringing his hands up to curl at the base of Clark’s neck, fingertips brushing the base of his jaw and ends of his hair. 

\--

**Clark’s mind caught up with the rest of him a moment later, and there was half a second of incredible anxiety that he had** **_really_ ** **fucked up.**

**… And the Bruce relaxed. His hands moved.**

**This was actually happening.**

**Clark let go of Bruce’s wrist so he could put his arms around him and pull the other man closer. Just enough force to gently press them together. He held him there, kissing him, until finally pulling his mouth away even if his hands kept at the small of Bruce’s back to keep him close.**

**He looked down at him and his chest felt like it was twisting into knots, and the dumbest thing left his mouth.**

**“Sorry.”**

**He had no idea what the fuck he was even apologizing for.**

**\--**

Bruce didn't emote well. He knew this. 

He only knew how to make gifts of things to prove he cared. 

But this?

Even if he'd only done it with ones the care for was shallow, he at least knew the moves to the dance. The pattern of it. 

He shook his head at Clark’s apology, taking the moment to lay his head in the crook of Clark’s shoulder, letting himself be held in place by the hand on the small of his back--even if it was harder to feel in this suit than it was in a cloth one. 

He ran his fingers under Clark’s jaw and breathed softly into his neck, voice sure, unafraid. 

“What do you need right now?”

He could give it. 

\--

**This wasn’t a side of Bruce he had ever seen even though he knew full well it existed. The man was far from** **_celibate_ ** **. Hell, he got around more in a week than Clark did in a year. It shouldn’t have been as surprising as it was.**

**… But Clark had done this too. Maybe with only a very small handful of people, but it had still happened whenever he found someone he wanted to be in a relationship with.**

**And he did want to be in a relationship with Bruce, he realized. Even if they acted on this and nothing changed tomorrow.**

**“... You.” He said, trying to sound way more confident than he felt. It almost came out more like a question.**

**_Was this okay?_ **

**_Do you really want to do this with ME of all people?_ **

**Bruce knew he wasn’t human. He knew what he was capable of.**

**Could he really be** **_that_ ** **vulnerable with him?**

**\--**

There was a hand on his spine, pressing gently through the suit. 

There was a hand on his spine that could crush steel beams like spaghetti sticks. 

There was a hand on his spine, and when he was younger, he’d already learned the pain of a dangerous break that could've cost him his legs. His life. 

But Bruce only knew how to make gifts of things--not how to show them freely. 

So perhaps Clark didn't know how vulnerable Bruce had already become, letting even a hand lay flat on him. 

Letting him be with Bruce alone, in a secret place beneath the world. 

He took Clark’s request easy, and tilted his head to kiss at the neck. Tugged off his gloves behind Clark’s back and let one slide down to the alien’s crotch. 

“Anything I should look out for?” he asked, voice roughening again in a way it usually didn't. Not rough in threat. 

It occurred to him he'd never--not down here. Not in the suit. 

\--

**“I don’t… look completely human.” Was what Clark offered without going into too many details. It had been a bit of a surprise for Lois when they were first together, but it wasn’t so alien that it put her off completely.**

**He couldn’t imagine Bruce being any worse over it.**

**His breathing was starting to pick up. Clark didn’t have the same insane control as Bruce did. But due to his strength he had to… think a little harder during activities like these.**

**_Be careful._ **

**Clark found the clasps of Bruce’s armor, he had seen him take it off plenty of times before to mend wounds, and tugged them open. Pulled it off and dropped it to the floor.**

**A hand went to the back of his neck, skin just as smooth as the day he was born despite growing up working on a farm and kissed him again.**

**_Slow. Be careful._ **

**\--**

He wouldn't be. He was prepared. 

He wasn't as prepared for his armor to be pulled off--his suit removed. But he let it happen, even if he tensed as the safety was stripped away. 

He didn't have the same knowledge of Clark’s suit as Clark did his. The material was as otherworldly as its owner, and so he would leave that to Clark, instead using the flexibility from being free from the suit to roll his hips gently into Clark’s thigh. 

Kiss back when the hand went to his neck and pulled him in. 

He'd been with men and women of all sorts. But he'd never been with a kryptonian. And he'd never felt quite as handled, even with just the awareness of what Clark’s hands  _ could  _ do, but didn't. 

\--

**With one piece of armor down, Clark pulled away from the kiss so he could reach his hand to certain points on his own armor, touching them so the skin-tight suit pulled off like it was nothing. With only a few gently nudges here and there it was on the floor, and underneath it Clark was very much naked.**

**It was skin-tight, after all. There was little left to the imagination.**

**One hand had remained on Bruce’s hip and he was slowly guiding them both to the cot he had been sitting on before. He didn’t know what Bruce was comfortable with. Was there anything he** **_wasn’t_ ** **comfortable with? He was about to have sex with an alien even if… Clark tried hard not to think of it like that.**

**He didn’t like to think of himself as an alien too much. He had been raised here. This was his home. He just had to be… a little more careful with his partners than they had to be with him. That was all.**

**\--**

Bruce did look, just to see what they were working with, and his expression didn't change much at the sight of it.

He didn't know what the word for it would be, but… it was acceptably close to a penis. 

If it functioned differently, that's what his question from before had been about. 

So he followed Clark’s slow walk back to the cot, only in the workout clothes he wore under the suit, and leaned up to suck on Clark’s lower lip. 

“How much do you want?”

How far? 

From a kiss to anal was a  _ large _ leap. 

Bruce could make it, no problem. 

But Clark might not. 

\--

**Thankfully for the both of them, it functioned about the same as any human would. It was just the difference in appearance that had made his sexual partners…. Limited.**

**He guided Bruce down to the bed, hands on his hips and feeling up and down, fingers tugging at the hem of his workout clothes to get the damn things off.**

**“As far as you’ll have me.” Clark said, comfortable with the idea of sex with Bruce whether he was on top or bottom. He had never been with a man before, but… he didn’t really worry about that.**

**Lonely teenage years had lead to… experimenting.**

**It was fine.**

**“You have a preference?”**

**His voice was low and his accent was back, dropped as soon as he relaxed and stopped being Superman to just be Clark Kent, regular guy from Kansas.**

**\--**

Bruce did finally snack those hands away, tugging his workout clothes off on his own, but-- it was a soft rejection. 

He pressed back into Clark a moment later, trying to make him settle back on the cot himself. 

“No way I’m letting you in charge,” he said, not even really needing to guess how many men Clark had been with. 

Clark was not taking the lead with that little experience. 

Bruce pushed Clark to settle for a moment before sliding off  he cot himself and heading to the nearby medical cabinet. 

Lube. 

Condoms. 

In another moment he was back, climbing on the thin cot and taking Clark’s hand. 

Putting it in his hair. 

He helped Clark push himself down, and took his first cautious taste of the alien. 

\--

**As soon as Bruce had slapped his hands away he had smiled.**

**“Yes sir.” He said in a sort of amused, mocking tone, but he didn't argue. It was nice to have someone know what you were capable of and take steps to make sure everything was going to be okay.**

**It was nice to not take the position of power when you had it nearly every day of your life.**

**He laid down and sucked in a breath as Bruce went down. A hand went to the back of his head, but… it didn't dare press down. It just lay there.**

**…**

**The strangst thing about it was that it was smooth. The same perfection his skin had. No wrinkles or blemishes.**

**It moved a little more too.**

**\--**

The moving was a  _ little  _ weird, but--manageable. 

It just took time to adapt, like everything else. 

...and Bruce had a small streak of pride that said a little off guard or not, Clark wasn't going to know that, and it'd be a blowjob that would still blow his mind if Bruce had anything to say. 

(it was a thing he had trouble saying more than most)

(sometimes he felt a little more human, doing this)

He pressed into Clark’s hands. Took him in without trouble. 

He opened the lube in his one hand and squirted some out, multitasking, before reaching back and getting started preparing early.

\--

**It was… hard to tell what would count as ready for Clark. It did get firmer, but that really only took a few short moments.**

**Mostly his eyes were closed, sneaking small peeks at what Bruce was doing and breathing hard. Doing his best to just… hang on. Be gentle.**

**His hands gripped Bruce's hair but let go a second later.**

**_Too rough._ **

**They changed their action, gliding through his hair instead, petting him almost.**

**… He really couldn't deny that Bruce was incredibly attractive. The scars and grey hairs made him more so in Clark's eyes.**

**The very human parts of him.**

**Not having fear in his eyes despite the situation.**

**That was really the most attractive thing of all.**

**The trust.**

**\--**

Bruce didn’t know what ‘prepared enough’ would be. He had no illusions about that. That part of this would be too fast and done blind. So he defaulted to his usual plan.

Over prepare and hope it was enough. 

Still, that didn’t mean it was all he was thinking of. 

He pulled back, just a little, as Clark shifted his hands. Let it slip from his mouth just enough to talk. 

“Something wrong?”

The grip had left so quick. 

“You’re tense.”

\--

**“Ah--” Clark sighed out, needing to take a breath and look down at Bruce to answer.**

**“Just-- I'm trying to be careful.”**

**Nothing had ever happened before, not even with Lois. But… the fear was there.**

**It was always there. Ingrained in him as soon as he was old enough to understand it.**

**\--**

Ah-- okay.

That, he understood. 

He took Clark’s hand again, and put it back in his hair. 

“I won’t break.” 

And he went down again.

\--

**Clark gripped his hair. Loosened it. Then gripped again once he found a good balance of 'not too rough but not too weak’. Bruce could tell he was trying to relax more, aided by his reassurance.**

**“Bruce--” He mumbled from around his other hand, between his legs starting to grow hot.**

**\--**

Bruce glanced up, making sure to keep attentive to what Clark was doing above him--not sure how things ‘ended’ with Clark, or how long he could manage. 

If Bruce needed to back off, he’d try to guess from the body language--but he didn’t want to pull away if Clark were just finally starting to really enjoy it.

\--

**His legs spread out, toes curling and grip on Bruce's head staying firm without pulling his partner one way or another. Clark's head leaned back and he mumbled out his partner's name over and over;** **_“Bruce-- brUCE--”_ **

**And then something felt a little different. “This-- this is it--” He warned, having learned that the hard way with Lois.**

**\--**

Bruce moved out of the way.

\--

**It wasn't powerful or ridiculous. It didn't** **_shoot through the ceiling_ ** **like some people might have guessed.**

**It was just… more than usual. The consistency and smell was different, but that was all.**

**And then it was over and Clark took a few deep breaths, grinning like a fool.**

**\--**

…

Bruce looked down at the mess, and then up at Clark. 

“You  _ do  _ know I’m going to run that through a computer, right?” he asked. 

(this was not something he would usually say during human sex. But he was also not hiding half himself right now.

...it was refreshing, in a way.)

\--

**His hand was over his face as he laughed. “Jesus christ, Bats.”**

**Of course he would.**

**“I'm not even a little surprised.”**

**\--**

“It’s on my cot. I get to do what I want with it.”

Fair was fair. 

But he could take a quick breather while Clark steadied himself. 

“...more? Or rest.”

He himself was still very much at attention. But he  _ also  _ had a hand fully lubed up, and could jack off pretty easily. 

This was for Clark.

\--

**He laughed again.**

**“... More, if you want. I don't really get tired until after a few.”**

**His breathing was already beginning to steady again, and his member hadn't changed much.**

**\--**

Bruce nodded, then. 

That didn’t intimidate him. Better, really. 

They could just get up and… carry on, if they had to. 

Bruce took a few breaths and got back into place. 

Opened up the condom, but did hesitate. 

“...you know if you break these or not?” 

\--

**… He did straighten a little, propping himself on his elbows.**

**“They've broken before, but not every time.”**

**That had been a scare.**

**… And then Clark just kind of assumed he'd never have kids. Probably incompatible or something. It made sense, being not human. Right?**

**\--**

Bruce nodded. 

He wasn't worried about pregnancy, but--

Though he doubted most STIs would affect Clark, that didn't mean he might not be a carrier. It wasn't as if he could go to a clinic and check like most could to see if their junk had magical virus destroying properties. 

…

“...well, if this doesn't work I'll have to make special ones. So let's hope it works and save me the trouble,” he said, and leaned back down once more to take Clark in his mouth a bit longer before sliding the condom on. 

\--

**_“Make_ ** **?” Clark said with some disbelief, but swallowed it and chuckled again.**

**Of course Bruce fucking would.**

**He was just… a little surprised the man was talking so confidently about their future sex life. Like it was an absolutely for-sure thing.**

**It was nice. It made him worry a little less. Realize this maybe wasn't some fever dream. That Bruce was just as interested as he was.**

\--

They didn't have to just be for him--

(People might  _ come back  _ to be with Bruce, but it wasn't as if they  _ stayed _ . It wasn't an obligation. He didn't make it one, either.)

\--but whenever Clark and Lois inevitably got comfortable again, she didn't deserve another possibly life-threatening pregnancy scare. Or any other person Clark got with. 

And besides. 

Bruce’d had a lot of partners. Especially when he was younger. 

He had to take what safe sex he could seriously. 

“Poor guys at R&E aren't gonna  _ want  _ to know what's going on if I ask for unbreakable condoms.”

He slicked Clark up and slid the condom on him, and then moved his head up Clark’s chest, kissing. Pushing him to lie down. 

\--

**Clark laughed again, “You really never turn off, do you?”**

**He liked that in a way.**

**For a second Bruce's hand didn't do anything, not until Clark felt what he wanted and laid back for him.**

**His hands found Bruce's thighs and he ran his fingers up and down them, feeling the scars and muscle.**

**\--**

It was hard to imagine how he ever explained some of it away. The scars, even just on his hips, which weren't as many as elsewhere. 

...it was strange. Clark’s smooth, perfect hands, without even a small unevenness from a childhood papercut, running over the bumps and keloids from a lifetime of human violence. 

He moved into the hands. Slid on top of Clark’s hips, breathing deeply and moving one of his hands back down to continue to prepare himself while his mouth moved up to suck on Clark’s chest. 

He tried to not linger on the one scar--where the spear had gone through. 

But he couldn't help but wonder, if he could leave a gentler mark. 

\--

**The only scar he had was big and ugly, and a constant reminder for both of them. One blamed himself that it was there in the first place, the other reminded that he wasn't immortal.**

**But it was hard to forget your own death. He still had nightmares about it. Waking up in a coffin yet being too weak to punch his way out. Sometimes his nightmares were just the feeling of his resurrection. Electricity and anger and confusion and fear.**

**But right now he was as far from a nightmare as he had gotten in a long time.**

**Clark squeezed his partner's thighs and when Bruce's head got close enough he shoved his face in his dark hair. A hand on the back of his neck urged him to look up again without making any push to move him himself so he could kiss him again.**

**\--**

Bruce bent into the hand easily, letting Clark kiss. Take most of the control over it. 

...and Bruce pressed closer into it, a hand going to hold Clark’s ‘dick’ in place as he slid himself down on it. 

\--

**Clark moaned into the kiss as he felt Bruce push down over him. The hand on on his hip squeezed a little harder, maybe enough to bruise a little, and the hand on the back of his head curled into his hair.**

**When he broke the kiss he looked up into Bruce's face, wanting to see if there was any difference than usual. Or if even with this he was able to stay impassive and controlled.**

**\--**

...there was a difference. 

Not that his face wasn't still impassive. Not that he wasn't controlled. He gave himself a moment to just breathe on top of Clark--feeling the difference from a human. Feeling if it was safe to move and adjust, if it was easier or more difficult--and, he thought at the moment, that it was easier. Slicker. More conforming. 

He let out a small groan at the grip, at the hand clutching his hair, before rolling his hips down onto Clark again and starting to ride him. 

He wasn't lost in it. He wasn't failing control. But he looked…

Relaxed. 

Like he knew what he was doing, and he could let himself enjoy it. 

\--

**… It made him smile. Seeing Bruce relaxed. Not that he hadn’t seen the man relaxed before, like when they were watching movies or when he was around his kids without the threat of them getting hurt.**

**But it was easier than with a human, even if it did move a little more, even if it was a different shape. Clark pushed up into him as he came down - just a little - not nough to bruise or hurt him.**

**_Careful. Baby movements._ **

**… He had hurt Lois a couple of times. Bruises. Sore hips. It made him feel terrible. So he always tried hard to keep his movements small and slow. Even if Bruce was a lot tougher.**

**It was his turn to start kissing him again, lips moving down his neck and into his collarbone.**

**\--**

Bruce let him. Kept thrusting himself down onto Clark--but still, the small movements were…

He reached down, gripping Clark’s hair. Not to hurt--he wasn't sure if a hair tug even could hurt Clark--but fuck. 

“Harder,” he rasped. 

\--

**Okay, that caught him a little off guard.**

**Clark blinked and stopped his kissing to look up at him.**

**“... You sure?”**

**Of course he was sure, when was Bruce not? But--**

**He was still hesitant. He had to be.**

**\--**

Of course he was. 

“Stop thinking so much,” he said, and thrust himself down harder than usual. Try to coax Clark to meet him more. “I'll tell you when to stop.”

\--

**Clark sucked in a breath when Bruce came down harder on him, still looking a little hesitant, but…**

**…**

**Okay.**

**He moved both hands down to Bruce’s hips for more control and started to push up a little harder in time with his partner.**

**Still not too hard. Not hard enough to bruise. Easy.**

**\--**

Better. 

Bruce didn't mind bruises. Not from this. He didn't mind handprints on his hips. 

(He liked them.) 

He wasn't exactly expecting Clark to fuck his brains out. But it was better to see Clark relaxing a little more into it. Letting go a little more. 

He put his hands on top of Clark’s on his hips and continued to fuck himself onto Clark, breathing going more ragged until he finally could feel a climax coming. 

\--

**(He would definitely have bruises on his hips.)**

**Clark used his hands to set his own force, and Bruce would maybe be a little sore too, but it was nothing he hadn’t been through before. Nothing too inhuman.**

**It grew hot. Some of the smaller movements stopped even if Clark was still thrusting upward.**

**“Bruce--” He breathed, head pushing back into the pillow on the cot.**

**It creaked underneath him.**

**He hadn’t stopped watching him.**

**\--**

It was good. 

Like after hard exercise--a pleasant, deep ache. 

His stomach muscles flexed with each thrust down. His breathing was rough. 

He gripped Clark’s wrists like lifelines as the heat grew-- he'd never felt something quite like it, and between his legs,  _ inside  _ him-- 

But Clark would be able to watch him. 

See the brief handful of time that Bruce finally, finally let himself go as he reached his limit, still fucking himself down to try and bring Clark with him. 

\--

**Clark huffed and kept thrusting until he finally followed Bruce, pushing up into him just a** **_little_ ** **too hard while pulling him down.**

**And he could tell that the condom didn’t hold.**

**It was hot but not burning, and way more than Bruce was used to.**

**It was a mess.**

**…**

**Clark wanted to apologize for that too, but he was breathing too hard and couldn’t formulate the words.**

**\--**

The blowjob had given him an idea of what to expect, but it was still something else to experience it. 

He slumped forward, bracing himself on Clark’s shoulders to catch his breath before lower himself down to the cot, sliding off Clark’s hips. 

For a while, he lay there and just breathed, enjoying the strange heat. The ache in his hips. 

...he did reach down to between his legs, checking for broken bits of condom in the mess, but only briefly. 

He finally felt spent. 

\--

**Clark lay beside him, catching his breath. It didn’t take very long for him though. He could have even gone again, but… he knew by now that was just his otherworldly stamina talking. He never expected his partners to keep up.**

**When he did move it was to roll over and face Bruce. A hand went to his hip and he looked the other man up and down, checking for anything broken or fractured.**

**Habit.**

**\--**

It wasn’t that Bruce couldn’t go twice in a row, but-- 

He hadn’t been  _ craving  _ beforehand, exactly. He was satisfied. Didn’t need more--

Though it did give him a moment of confusion when Clark started feeling him up in the absolute least sexy way possible. 

“...I assure you, if I’d broken something, you’d know.”

He’d probably have punched. Just. Out of habit.

\--

**“I know.” Clark said, and laid his head back down. “Won’t stop me from checkin’ anyway.”**

**Fear.**

**Hurting the people he loved.**

**\--**

Bruce rolled his eyes, but let his head fall back onto the pillow and allowed it. 

(Allowed a casual touch on his bare skin, like he wasn't even thinking about it, when half the time he shrank from a hand on his shoulder.)

\--

**Clark smiled.**

**Unlike Bruce he was a very affectionate person, even if sometimes he was worried he would accidently snap his friends in two.**

**He rolled over to face Bruce fully and put an arm around him, wiggling down a little so he could better shove his face into the crook of the shorter man’s neck. Breathe in the scent of his sweat and fancy cologne.**

**Calm.**

**Glad that this was the Bruce of his world, and that he knew him, and got to spend time with him like this.**

**It was nice. He hoped it wasn’t the first and last time it happened.**

**\--**

Bruce huffed, letting the arm under Clark bend around him and rest across Clark’s back. Fingers in the bottom of Clark’s hair. 

Figured he was a snuggler. 

…

But sometimes that was nice. For the other one to be. So he didn't have to tug close, or cling, or… so he could just… rest. And let it happen. 

…

Still. The longer he lay there, the more he was reminded they were on a medical cot, and that they weren't exactly his luxury mattresses for a reason. 

“Next time,” he grunted, “we use my actual bed.”

Maybe it made no difference for Clark, but it'd be better to rest on for Bruce’s old back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let! aro! bruce! fuck!


End file.
